


The Demands of the Drive

by theweddingofthefoxes



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, Drunkenness, M/M, softkinks fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-18 00:56:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16107401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweddingofthefoxes/pseuds/theweddingofthefoxes
Summary: From this soft kinks fill: "Kylo (29, drives Ubers all night long because he wants to make some money and he likes to drive at night) ends up giving rides at least once a week to Hux (34, refuses to get a car). He has no idea why Hux takes Ubers all the damn time, but he must be taking them at least once a day because Kylo keeps finding him. Every time they meet each other again, it's like a funny surprise. Kylo has seen Hux in every possible state: prim and proper, drunk and laughing, drunk and crying, drunk and quietly singing along to Britney Spears on the radio, drunk and almost passed out so Kylo had to walk him into his front door. Mostly drunk. Whenever Hux takes an Uber and isn’t drunk, he acts very proper and cold and pretends he doesn’t remember Kylo. Kylo thinks it’s funny (if a little annoying sometimes). He might has a bit of a crush."





	1. Chapter 1

It is Thursday and Hux is composed. Always composed on Thursdays. Perhaps even more so than usual: it's like he's mustering up all of the tightassery he can so he can fully expel it over the coming weekend, the way you take a deep breath before you sneeze. Not a hair out of place, and his face shaved so smooth that he looks carved from china.

"Hey, man," Ren says cheerfully, like they used to be college buddies or something, and if he is lucky, on Thursdays, Hux will give a little nod to indicate he has heard. 

Ren's car is clean, always, and there are mints in the backseat pockets, though Hux doesn't touch them until the weekend. He looks at his phone and frowns, but he never takes a call. Barely speaks, actually. If Ren only drove on weekdays, he'd think this guy was a mute. But the weekend drives are lucrative, here between two colleges and three major corporations and a train station and countless bars, and of course Ren will hear his voice much more later in the week. 

Hux never complains about the temperature or the type of music or anything like that. During the weekdays, Ren will play all kinds of things: classical, NPR, classic rock. It never seems to make a difference; Hux makes not a peep. Twice he's asked for Ren to turn down the volume, and does not say please. That's pretty much it. There's a curt "Thank you" at the end of it all, and then he is gone. 5 stars. The end. 

"Hot enough for you?" Ren wants to know. He knows that Hux won't really say anything. Ren delights in small talk, mostly because he knows it drives other people nuts. "It's supposed to be in the seventies tomorrow, thank god. If I had to deal with this heat wave another day I don't know what I'd do." Like Steve Buscemi in Fargo, the conversation is mostly with himself. "Of course, it's supposed to hit the low sixties by next week. Too much of a good thing, maybe. I'd prefer it stay in the seventies."

It is Thursday and Ren's passenger glances out the window, but his expression reveals nothing about what he might be looking at or looking for.

* * *

It is Saturday and Hux is wasted. Absolutely gone. When he spots Ren's car he scrambles inside like he's being chased by the paparazzi, all leg and elbow, giggling at nothing. "Christ on a cracker," he announces. "Thank god you're here. Standing--standing is not. Very easy." He makes a great show of clicking his seatbelt into place so that Ren will agree to put the car in drive and slide away from Willy Nilly, the gay bar that Hux is most fond of. 

"It's the law, buckaroo, can't have you sliding all over the place like a bag of groceries," he'd said the first time he had picked Hux up here, swallowing back his astonishment that Hux, the Hux he had driven around so many times, Mr. Prim and Proper, was now carrying his own weight in mai tais in the gay district. 

"The law. Right, the law. We're not. The law breakers."

"No way, man," Ren had agreed. 

It is Saturday and Hux shines with sweat, his hair filthy and sopping with loosened pomade and the oils from a hundred hands. He rolls down the window and sticks his head out like a dog, closing his eyes and grinning at the cool air. "Feels good. Cold." He notices that Britney Spears is playing on the radio and demands that Ren turn it up to levels that make every nut and bolt of the car vibrate to the tune of Toxic. It is like transporting Jekyll and Hyde, but Hyde is a better tipper. Ren had actually braced himself the first time he picked up Hux on a weekday after taking him home from his night at the bars. He was worried he'd be accused of fleecing him, that Hux would want the exorbitant tip back or something. But no. 

"Another Britney or something else?" Ren wants to know, once they hit a light and the song is over. Hux makes a face that suggests Ren ought to know the answer. 

"Always Britney. Never anything but. Her."

She's got enough of a discography and the ride is short enough that Ren can always oblige. Quickly he learns to correlate the larger tips he gets with having played Circus, so that's always on the list. It becomes a joke, after awhile, that he will ask, is Hux sure he still wants to listen to this? And Hux always insists. 

With the larger tips, Ren pays for a subscription to a better music service and sets up playlists for all of his regulars, especially Hux. He likes it for himself, too, though his own tastes lean more towards sad folk songs about maidens dying of broken hearts and whatnot. As the college kids he totes around say: big mood. 

Driving makes him feel less lonely. He spent a lot of time moping on his own when he was younger. Then he moved to a new city where he didn't know anybody. He surprised himself when he realized he now considers a lot of his regular riders friends. 

Is Hux a friend?

"God, I love you," Hux says when Ren reminds him of the mints in the backseat. He's complaining about the way the Fireball has made his mouth taste. "Like a spicy sock." 

"Christ, buddy. Can't have that, can we? You should get a nice cold soda or something when you're home."

"Don't have any," Hux says. 

"No?"

"Go to McDonald's." He sounds so imperious. "Go on, there's one. In two streets. Get anything you want too. And it's on my credit card." 

"Hux, seriously, I don't--"

"Are you going to do what the-- what I, the customer, what I want? If you do not go to McDonald's I'll take away your stars." Hux settles back, pleased with this power play, and Ren gives an exaggerated shrug. 

"Well, if my stars are at stake..."

Ren gets himself a milkshake and a burger on Hux's dime. Hux sips on his Sprite and eats a four pack of nuggets, how indulgent! He seems to sober up just a bit after he's finished, now that Ren is sitting at the exit of the drive-thru with his blinker on, waiting to make a left turn. 

"This was always like, a treat as a kid. If I had been good."

"You have been good," Ren agrees, without really thinking about it.

"You. You've been good."

"So I get all of my stars?"

"Yes," Hux answers. "All of them. Two bad there aren't six. My other drivers aren't like you."

He leans out the window again, still chewing the last nugget, the almost-rain smell of the cool air pouring in around them, the sound of pop music pouring out. He appears free in a way that Ren has never seen anyone look, and that night, he tips double.

* * *

On Monday Hux is cold and tired and impossible to talk to. Ren doesn't know what he does on Sundays, other than regain his composure. 

"How about those Ravens, huh?" Ren needles, grinning. Hux is wearing a purple tie, so maybe he has a way in there. "Did you watch the game last night? I didn't, I was driving people to and from the sports bars, you know. Rather have them back there than driving home themselves. But I heard they pulled out that win out from under the rug."

Hux is looking at his phone. 

"I'd rather watch baseball myself. I know, you don't have to tell me about the state of the O's this year. But still, peanuts and crackerjack and all that jazz. Something nice about it."

Ren actually forgets about this conversation entirely until the other version of Hux gets in his car the following Saturday. Willy Nilly again, and Hux, though drunk, seems to be a little more under his own power. This is always a crapshoot; sometimes a fairly lucid-seeming Hux will suddenly nod off midsentence, sometimes a fairly sloppy Hux will be able to give extremely detailed directions or summaries of events. 

"I have to tell you something," Hux slurs, oozing into the backseat. "Guess who I was just talking to?"

"I cannot possibly guess," Ren answers. "Hm. A celebrity. Was it a YouTuber? Someone who like, tries to fit all the Mentos in his mouth that he can?"

"You're--not that, but yeah. A celebrity, almost."

"Almost? Hm."

"Someone who ALMOST played for the Orioles," Hux tells him, his diction childishly proud. "He tore his. Rotator. His rotator. He tore it and then he couldn't be an Oriole anymore."

"Did you make out?"

"No." Hux laughs. 

"Well, what good is he, then."

"Yeah."

Circus is dutifully played, and Hux sighs, like the song is a warm bath to sink into. Ren is curious about the mood Hux appears to be in tonight. He seems sly, smug, pleased. He seems open to questions. "You know, man, I don't even know where you work. I just know the building."

"Law offices of Thomas, Patterson and sons." 

"Ah. Man of the law."

"Except seatbelts. Fuck em, honestly. Except you won't drive if I don't wear it."

"You of all people should know, then. What if you sued me if you got thrown through the windshield?"

"Okay, okay, you got me there." Hux throws his hands up. 

"How long have you been there?"

"Tryin' to get a job?"

"Think I'd make a good lawyer?"

"I'd rather have you in the government. The filibuster. You could do that. Just keep talking."

"I have a lot to say."

"You have a nice voice."

"Yeah?"

If Hux responds to that, Ren can't hear it, so he resigns himself to driving to Hux's nice condominium that' sits behind a fancy shopping center where organic radishes and cucumbers cost more than a ticket to the movies. Hux has drifted off, clearly, and so Ren tries to take the turns gently so he won't smack his head on the window. Turns down the Britney once he approaches the buildings so the neighbors won't bitch about it. 

Normally Hux springs up once he can sense the car no longer moving, but this time, he stays still and quiet, his breath whistling through his nose when he exhales. Ren knows that the Hux he will meet on Monday will hate coming to the realization that this has happened, but there's nothing Ren can do. He turns off the car and waits with Hux in the dark, feeling somehow that it is not his place to wake him.

Should he honk the horn? Clear his throat?

Eventually he will have to do something.

But for now, he simply sits, and listens, and imagines what that baseball player looked like, wonders if he looked anything like Ren himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ren has gotten to know both sides of Hux, but he's going to get to know him even better.

The crickets hum and whir, their volume rising and falling in waves around the way-turned-down sound of Britney Spears singing "Lucky". Ren shifts in his seat so he can get a better look at his strange passenger, realizing that perhaps this is a version of him that he hasn't met yet. The sleepy version, too drunk to be fun anymore, maybe a little bit needy. Ren tries to banish the idea of carrying him like a fireman to his door, surely he wouldn't be that heavy...

Before he can cough or say Hux's name or do anything that might wake him, Hux jerks forward, his eyes suddenly open. In the auto-light that has come on in his driveway, Hux's eyes look impossibly green, a color that exists only on computer screens and stoplights. 

"Oh," he says, his voice warped with a half-yawn. "That's my house. You found it."

"I always do, right? Otherwise you wouldn't give me five stars."

"Yes. You do."

Hux forces himself forward so he can try to rest his cheek on the back of the passenger seat, but his seatbelt restricts him too much to get that close. "Can you help me?"

"Help you what?" Just thinking about what Hux has in mind has made beads of sweat prickle on Ren's temples. Is he honestly going to have to fireman-carry Hux inside, for real?

"Just help me," Hux insists, sounding only a little bit annoyed. "You know. I need help."

"Okay. Tell me what you need help with."

"This bullshit," Hux says, tugging on the seatbelt, which has already been stretched to its limit and is now doing its best to constrict. There's no vitriol in his tone, though. He seems expectant more than anything, waiting for Ren to turn off the car and cater to his every need. Ren thinks of his jealousy about the baseball player, and of the massive tips that he's been getting. Surely Hux has paid him enough to get more than typical attention. 

The music dies off when Ren takes the keys out of the ignition and now the word is only insects and the occasional passing car. Other people, on their way to other lives. When Ren gets the back door open, he has to reach across Hux to undo the seatbelt, and once he does, Hux goes down like a felled birch. 

It is by pure instinct that Ren is able to grab him before his head hits the pavement, and there's a moment that passes between them where Hux looks suddenly, frighteningly sober. Then he laughs, ugly and loud, a real snort-gobble-cackle like a barnyard on fire. "Holy shit," he says. "That was a close one!"

"God," Ren says, because that's all there is to say.

"You saved my life, I think. The big boys up at Thomas, Patterson and Sons will be glad for it. Imagine how much shit they'd have to do themselves if I kicked the bucket now."

"Yeah, that'd sure be inconvenient," Ren says, hauling Hux into something that almost resembles a sitting position. "Who'd tip me like you do?"

"Nobody, that's who," Hux adds, his voice grand and self-impressed. "It's like I'm your car sugar daddy."

"If you say so," Ren laughs, thankful Hux isn't going to notice his ears burning in this lighting. "Come on then, Daddy, you've had way too much. I'm supposed to help you to earn my keep, right?"

"God, you remembered. I forgot."

It doesn't come to Hux being carried, not in the way that Ren was picturing, anyway. Instead, Ren sort of guides Hux to the front door like they've been journeying across the frontier and Hux is famished, or has been kicked by an ox. Hux's waist is so narrow that it's easy to get an arm around, and Hux figures out how to get his legs working before too long. He fishes the key out of his pocket with the tremendous and precise effort normally reserved for claw machine games at children's arcades. Finally, the door is open.

Ren thinks that this will be it, that he will bid Hux goodnight and get back in the car and by the time he's home, the rating and tip will have already gone through. Hux has never been too drunk to finish all of that stuff right away. But Hux keeps leaning on him as they make their way into the foyer. 

"Just to the couch," Hux insists. 

"Not your bed?" Ren asks, before he can stop himself.

"Too many steps."

"Will you be comfortable?"

"Oh. That's a nice question." Hux seems really delighted, running his hand through his hair to get it out of his eyes. "That's very nice. Yeah. Yes. I will. I mean, tomorrow I'll feel like shit no matter what, so it. Sort of doesn't matter. But yes."

"Do you have water in your fridge?"

"Coco-nut water," Hux enunciates. "Lots of that."

"I'll put some on your side table, maybe." Ren can see the kitchen from there, he can just grab it and set it down and leave, right? Hux has rolled onto the enormous couch, pulling the thick purple-and-white striped blanket that had bee neatly folded over its back onto himself. 

"I'm tipping you now," Hux promises, while Ren wanders into the next room. There's a confirming buzz in Ren's pocket, but he's too busy looking at the impossible neatness of Hux's refrigerator to look at it. The coconut water is arranged so the ones with the closest expiration dates are in the front and the furthest are in the back. Unreal. 

By the time he returns to the living room, Hux is nearly asleep again, the blanket only really covering his torso. He's pulled off his jeans and his boxers are plain black, not that Ren is looking. 

"I paid you," Hux mumbles. 

"Yeah, I know you did. Thanks."

"Doesn't Daddy get a kiss?"

It would be the easiest thing to do, right now. Lean down and steal a kiss from that pale little mouth. 

Ren cannot imagine how badly the sober Hux that will get into his car on Monday will hate that.

If he bothered to get in Ren's car ever again at all. 

"Maybe one day," Ren says, and sets the coconut water on the side table before letting himself back out through the front door, pulling it a couple of times so he knows that it's locked.

* * *

It is Monday and it is raining so hard that Ren sees Hux break into a run for the first time since he started driving him home. It doesn't help much -- he's still soaked when he climbs into the back of Ren's car, his hair matted down and his white Oxford shirt now translucent. 

The Brandenburg concertos are on the radio and Ren throws the car into drive as soon as Hux clicks his seatbelt in. "How was your weekend?" Ren asks, pulling away from the building. 

To his amazement, he gets a real answer, though it is quiet and clipped, a million miles away from the sloppy Hux that Ren has gotten to know so very well. "Very nice, thank you. I got a lot of rest yesterday."

"Oh yeah?"

"I rather needed it."

Ren smiles. "I won't comment on that."

"That's why I tip you."

They ride quietly for a long while -- Hux has drawn a dry newspaper from his briefcase and doesn't seem to get carsick at all even while looking at the tiny print. Ren keeps stealing glances at him in the rearview mirror, admiring the way his pale eyelashes flash as he blinks. When they arrive at Hux's place, the rain having faded down to a soft mist, Ren sort of expects the typical brief thanks, but also sort of doesn't. Anything could happen. 

Even what does.

Hux steps out of the car but does not shut the door, seemingly unconcerned that the meter was still running. "So on what day did you plan to give me that kiss?"

His voice is so measured, so completely Monday-Hux, that it takes Ren a minute to process the actual words. 

"I--didn't think you were. Really paying attention."

"Really sober, you mean."

"Um. You weren't, pal."

Hux laughs softly. "That's true." He shuts the door but crosses behind the car, stops again when he's next to Ren's window, and Ren wastes no time in rolling it down so they can keep talking. "I appreciate the integrity."

"It's just not being a dick, I guess."

"An uncommon talent." Hux traces one finger through the raindrops on the side of the car. "Come by sometime, off the clock. If that's an interest of yours."

"And can I ask to do what?" Ren can't hide his smile, the one that says he doesn't really care what they'll be doing. 

"Anything you care to." Hux hoists up his briefcase under his arm. "Maybe listen to some music."

"Like Britney Spears?"

"You're not tired of her yet?"

"You're not."

"We can go out and dance. Maybe we'll catch a ride with someone else." 

Ren gives a little salute, touching his temple with two fingers. "Sounds like a plan. Daddy."

Hux continues to walk to his door, acting like he hasn't heard that last part, but the tip that he leaves a minute later confirms that he most definitely did, and that he doesn't plan to let his title go anywhere. God almighty. It's a good Monday, despite the rain, Ren thinks, letting himself idle in the driveway to soak it all in before going to find another rider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU GUYS, you've left me so many lovely comments and I just can't get over it. I'm so happy to bring you part two!

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt REALLY grabbed me! I wrote the first chapter in a fit of inspiration and I'm so glad I get to share. I know this prompt was very popular, and 1000 thanks to the person who submitted it!


End file.
